


think of you

by mujatuan



Series: curiouscat prompt fills [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Again, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mommy Kink, Pet Names, Praise Kink, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 00:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mujatuan/pseuds/mujatuan
Summary: [prompt from cc: bratty baby!bambam and mommy!mark]mark hates to be unfair.





	think of you

**Author's Note:**

> one !! completely consensual !! derogatory term present!

mark hasn’t said a word since they got in the car. now, bambam is sitting on the edge of the bed with only his dress shirt and pants still on, not sure what to do as mark seems to be wholly ignoring his presence.

though bambam doesn’t like this feeling at all- needless to say, he wants as much of mark’s attention he can get- he can’t deny that it was sort of a given. as soon as they entered the chinese restaurant on the third floor, one that jackson insisted was _ truly authentic chinese food, _ bambam had ran off to where he saw yugyeom- away from mark’s side, where mark most preferred him to be.

he had been teasing mark all night long, too, grazing his hand against mark’s crotch whenever he reached over for the menu, squeezing his bulge whenever he leaned forward to laugh at some joke he didn’t hear.

it was usually hard to get a rise out of mark. being the oldest in their group of seven meant having to deal with ridiculous antics like these more often than not, and mark was always one who learned to be tolerant. however, tolerance was far, far off from what reaction bambam wanted.

but perhaps even tolerance was better than this. mark commanded the atmosphere, always, which meant the air surrounding the bedroom was suffocatingly quiet. 

bambam just wants his attention. judging from the way mark stares only at his reflection, untying his tie, it’s anything but.

he’s almost at a loss for words, staring as mark cards a hand through his hair. “mark, i-”

“i’m disappointed,” mark sighs, and those words shoot waves of cold through bambam’s body. this isn’t what he wants. he suddenly feels too hot in the room, almost about the melt and be crushed under the heavy lingering of mark’s words.

bambam doesn’t dare say anything more. he sits with his hands on his lap, tongue uncomfortably resting in his mouth. “i thought you would be good,” mark continues, humming as he folds his tie in half and rests it on the top of the dresser. “but you weren’t.”

“i’m sorry,” bambam blurts out. it’s instinctive, and he knows he isn’t allowed to interrupt mark while he’s talking- he can tell from the pointed glare mark sends over his shoulder.

the older heaves another breath and discards of his suit jacket, leaving it resting over the standing mirror for now. “it’s too late for sorry now, baby.” he unbuckles his belt, leaving his dress pants looser and his dress shirt falling out of its neat tuck. 

bambam feels his words stuck in his throat as mark turns around. his eye makeup is a little darker than usual, sexier, makes bambam swallow down on his saliva. “you’re usually so good.” mark walks up to him and pushes his shoulders so that he’s resting on his forearms, crawling up back onto the bed as mark straddles him, legs on both sides. their noses are almost touching, and bambam lets out a soft whine as mark stares at him. “but tonight, you were bad.”

“mommy,” bambam whimpers. 

mark leans in to kiss him- or so he thinks, because there’s barely a graze of their lips before mark pushes him onto his back with his body. he latches onto the side of bambam’s neck, licks right by his jawline and nibbles pretty marks onto his skin. “p-please,” bambam groans. “wanna kiss. pl-”

“shhh,” mark says, licking a stripe up his ear. “baby boy. what should mommy do with you?”

“touch me,” bambam gasps. “anything, mommy. please.” mark tries to run a hand down bambam’s shirt but frowns when he realizes it’s buttoned up, making his displeasure clear with his eyebrows furrowed together.

mark rises back up so he’s on his knees. “strip yourself naked.” 

bambam scrambles to follow- there’s nothing more he wants than for mark to forgive him, to touch him even though he’s been breaking all of the rules. he tugs his dress pants off first, then begins unbuttoning his shirt. mark is staring down at him, with only the first three buttons undone.

he gets frustrated when the last one isn’t coming apart between his sweaty fingers and whines, ripping at the shirt so it forcibly pops. if he were any less desperate, he would no doubt be punished, but mark seems to be surprisingly lenient. 

“i said,” mark says, slipping a finger into the waistband of bambam’s briefs, “naked.”

it’s almost embarrassing. he’s fully stripped in seconds, then falling once again onto his back as mark stares at him from above. almost. maybe any other time, when mark wasn’t looking at him like he was about to devour him, it would have been embarrassing.

bambam becomes aware of exactly how hard he is when mark lets his finger drag up his length, forcing a drawn out hiss from his mouth. “do you have anything to say?” 

“i’m sorry,” he chokes out.

mark clicks his tongue. “for what?”

“for teasing mommy. being bad.”

“that’s right,” mark says, and even that little sentence- barely a praise at all- has bambam curling his toes and clenching his eyes shut.

mark makes a noise of disapproval and wraps a hand around bambam’s cock. “keep your eyes open,” he growls. “do you think you deserve to cum tonight?”

he wants desperately for the answer to be yes, but bambam sees the flash of mark’s canines and whatever composure he had is gone. “no, mommy,” he says, and yet still continues with “please. anything.”

bambam reaches a hand up, wanting to wrap them around mark’s neck and pull him in close, but mark snarls and slaps it away. “only good boys get to touch,” he says, and bambam stutters over unintelligible apologies.

“what can i do to be good, mommy?” bambam says. 

mark sucks his bottom lip under his teeth as he thinks, the hand that was on bambam’s cock now casually roaming up and down his body. “what do you want to do, baby?”

“anything,” he pleads.

mark seems to be mildly pleased at that- or at least, bambam hopes so. “mommy’s so nice, i think i’ll let you cum, just tonight.”  


it’s more than he could have hoped for. bambam’s eyes light up and he almost reaches for mark again before remembering the rules- no touching- and he immediately drops his hands back down. “thank you, thank you, m-”

“but,” mark says, suddenly grinning. of course. “only with your own fingers. no touching your cock, no touching me. i tell you what to do.”

bambam can feel another protesting whine on the tip of his tongue, but holds it back. _ you’re lucky you get to cum tonight, _he reminds himself, and lets himself smile. “yes, mommy,” he says, sweetly.

mark hums at this. “there’s my good boy,” he praises. 

bambam stares placidly as mark reaches over to the nightstand. he stares at his clothed bulge, straining against the expensive fabric of his pants, and wants so badly to touch, to suck mark off and please him. then, there’s mark holding the bottle of lube. “your fingers,” mark demands, and bambam is quick to give him his hand.

mark squirts it onto his fingers, then moves down to give his cock a hasty lick before dripping more lube onto his hole. bambam squirms as mark takes his wrist and guides his down, down, downards.

before he can do much more, mark resumes his position kneeling, now in front of bambam with both his hands on his thighs, spreading his legs apart. “one finger, beautiful,” mark says.

bambam makes sure he’s slow and careful, just how mark would do it. he presses his middle finger in and feels only its conscious intrusion and the tight warmth around his finger, lube squelching inside of him. 

“mmh.” mark licks his lips and looks unfairly hot doing so. “you’re so tight, baby. it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked, hasn’t it?”

it’s true. they never get to spend as much time together as they’d like, and even those spare moments are better spent in other positions. “mommy knows, bammie,” and bambam is having a little trouble to breathe right when he hears that nickname. 

he slides his finger in more, reaching up to his second knuckle before mark continues talking. “been so infatuated with my ass, haven’t you?” they both know. “forgot what it was like to be filled up by a thick cock, hm?”

his finger fits all the way in and they both groan. his slim fingers are no match to mark’s cock, but just imagining how full he would feel turns him on so fucking much.

“too bad. you’ll get my cock another day.”

“mommy,” bambam whines, bratty and petty and just the way that makes mark either fume or laugh.

“no more complaining, baby boy. do you think you can take another finger?”

it hasn’t been long since bambam first inserted one, but he feels his hole loosening more as mark whispers sweet words to him. “yes,” he says, but waits- waits for mark to tell him what to do. for now, he thrusts shallowly with just one finger, barely ghosting against his prostate.

“good boy,” mark says, and bambam almost shakes. “your index finger too, now.”

with a little bit more lube and mark’s encouragements, bambam prods in a second finger beside the first. it’s starting to feel less foreign and more recognizable, that familiar dull pulse of pleasure taking over his movements as he feels around himself.

“there we go,” mark coos, as bambam starts properly pumping his fingers in, out, in. “just like that. isn’t that nice, baby?”

“yes,” bambam says, choking on his own spit as he scissors himself open, grinding good against his prostate. “ah- oh! mommy, _ please.” _

“please what?” mark responds.

bambam sucks a breath in, focusing less on his fingers and more on the way mark turns him on _ so much _when he’s laid out and exposed in front of him, pleasuring himself only for mark’s own viewing. it sends sparks down his spine, electricity crashing in his veins when mark’s possessive grips on his thighs tighten.

“third finger,” he manages to gasp. “please. i’m so close.”

“already?” mark raises an eyebrow, amused. “bammie, we’ve only been at this for a while. i’ve barely even _ touched _ you. are you so turned on from just my voice?”

he whimpers. pathetically, but enough for mark to let out a little laugh. “if you think you’re ready, then go ahead.” 

his hole and fingers are so wet, bambam doesn’t think he needs any more lube. there’s still the sound of sticky liquid pressing against itself when he slides in the third finger, feeling more full than ever. though it won’t be today, he can only dream of mark’s cock fucking him, splitting him apart.

“mmh, look at your pretty hole, just sucking your fingers in,” mark hisses. it’s _ hot. _so fucking sexy. “what a slut.”

_ fuck _ if that isn’t the hottest thing bambam’s heard all night. he’s desperate, of course he is- with three fingers pumping in and out of him- but still, all he wants to hear is mark _ owning _him, belonging entirely to the beautiful man in front of him. “your slut, mommy,” he pants, “only yours-”

“that’s right,” mark says, eyes dangerous. “my beautiful cockslut. my pretty boy.”

being called pretty, being called beautiful, it has nothing against hearing mark say that bambam is _ his. _ “oh my- _ god,” _he moans, loud and unrestrained. his movements have grown sloppy

“you gonna cum, bammie?” mark says, sliding his hands up and down bambam’s thighs. 

the feeling makes him shiver, but he doesn’t stop fucking himself on his own fingers, rubbing against his prostate in wild circles. “oh, please, mommy, i want- need to-”

mark looks at him. his eyes look glazed over and his cheeks flushed, and bambam’s glad to know he’s just as ruined. rules are rules though, no matter how tempted, and bambam is just waiting for _ one thing, _ holding in his orgasm to wait, because he wants to be good-

mark opens his mouth. “cum.”

bambam arches his back off the bed and it almost hurts, but it’s _ so fucking good _ when he finally orgasms and sprays sticky white onto his stomach and chest. his fingers are still messily pressed against his prostate, sending scattered waves of pleasure thrumming through his body, his thighs are buzzing, his skin is covered in sweat and fluid but he feels amazing.

and mark is there, right there and kissing him, pressing his dress shirt right up against bambam’s cum. “mommy,” bambam moans into mark’s mouth, and mark makes good to properly devour bambam’s mouth.

when they pull away, after seconds of ages, bambam’s eyes go from mark’s spit slick lips to the very obvious erection in his pants. “let me help you,” he whines.

mark smiles at him and wipes his forehead with a spare tissue. “don’t worry about me, baby,” he says, peppering small kisses up and down the side of bambam’s face. his nose, his eyelids, finally his lips. “you did so well, bammie. i’m so proud of you.”

bambam feels like he’s about to burst, or maybe cum again. he lays there, fucked out and limbless.

“do you want to sleep? or shower?” mark says.

he’d like sleep, but more than that he wants to pleasure mark, just as much as the older did for him. “sh’wer first, wanna help you,” he says, reaching his arms out. “but lift me there?”

mark laughs. “of course, baby.” and he scoops him up in his arms, just how bambam likes it.

**Author's Note:**

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